Epilogue for Elliott Avenue

It's approaching midnight, and I'm sitting on the back deck of my new house on Linden Avenue, listening to the siren on a fire engine - probably Engine No. 8 - in the distance (some things never change about city life).  I left our house on Elliott Avenue for the last time about a half hour ago.

Today, Jude and I swept and mopped the floors at our old house (how strange to call it our "old" house).  I cleaned out the refrigerator and freezer.  Jude did several loads of laundry, as there is no washer and dryer in our new house.  The moving crew - who were great - moved the remaining items they couldn't find room for on the truck yesterday.  Duane mowed the grass, trimmed the yard and generally cleaned it up nicely.  He also removed the sandbox from the back yard.  Much to Joe's chagrin, it had rotted and couldn't be moved to the new house.  Duane also took another load of junk to the landfill.

Tonight, after dinner, Jude and I took J.P. and Joe to our old house for one last look around, and to pick up our cats, N.C. and Mini-T.  I smiled sadly when J.P. said to no one in particular, as he walked into Joe's empty bedroom downstairs, "I wish we could stay here just one more day."  Me, too, J.P., I thought, me, too.

The boys wandered around a bit, upstairs, then downstairs.  It was cute, as they were already in their pajamas.  It appeared that, like us, they already had said their goodbyes to our old house.

Earlier in the afternoon, when Jude and I were sweeping and mopping the empty rooms, I literally felt a dull ache in my stomach and chest.  It's strange, I know, but I felt so sad to know we were leaving and that I would never live in that house again.  My heart felt so heavy.  It's hard to explain, because I don't think I've felt that way before, but I felt this overwhelming, palpable sense of sadness.  I almost had to stop and sit down to collect myself and my emotions.

The boys were worn out when we left our old house with the cats, so we moved straight into our bedtime routine when we got back to the new house.  My tentative plan, at that point, was to put the boys in bed, then return to our old house.  I was going to go for a final run, finish at Bongo Java, get a "Mood Elevator, " then walk home like I have so many times over the last 12 + years.  Of course, it didn't quite work out that way.  It took longer to get the boys in bed than I had hoped, so I skipped the run, drove over to Bongo Java, and drank a "Mood Elevator" there.  Then, I went to our old house to finish cleaning, take out the trash and pick up the odds and ends that were still there.

I had planned to end the night by sitting on the front porch, drinking a beer and writing a blog post about how I felt, in the moment, to be leaving our old house once and for all.  Much to my surprise, though, I got busy cleaning and loading my truck, and by the time I was done, I just wanted to get home, and be with my family, even though they would probably all be asleep.  And that's when it hit me.  Home wasn't on Elliott Avenue any longer, it was in our new house on Linden Avenue.  I felt a sense of relief, as I locked the front door for the last time and took my key off my keychain and left it in the mailbox.  Finally, at long last, I was ready to move on, to my new home.

Jude and I, and later, the boys, got as much out of our house on Elliott Avenue as we possibly could over the last 12 + years.  As I told Duane when we were standing in the front yard talking today, the Elliott Avenue house wasn't perfect, but it was perfect for us.

It's funny, but this afternoon while we were cleaning, Jude reminded me of something we had said when we were deciding whether to buy the house in 2002.  As we looked at it with my cousin, Alice, we wondered if we were really cool enough to own that house.  In the city, exposed brick on the inside, giant maple tree in the front yard, gorgeous mantle over the fireplace, original hardwood floors throughout and original old, smoky glass windows.  No driveway and no garage, just parking on the street and living in the 'hood!  Well, it turns out, we were plenty cool enough to own that house.  And we were plenty cool enough to have two boys who lived in that house with us.

And so, as I turned off all the lights inside for the last time, as I turned off the front porch lights and locked the front door, then dropped the keys in the mailbox, there were no tears or prolonged sighs or remembrances of times passed.

The end was just the end.  And that's as it should be.



     

Dodgers!

The Dodgers, after winning the end of season tournament in the Willie Mays Division of the Rookie League at the West Nashville Sports League.  From left to right, Hank, Davis, Winn, Wes, Jaxyn, Cyrus, J.P., Cooper, Jonathan, Brennan and Aidan.

This afternoon at Harpeth Hills Church of Christ, my Dodgers won the end of season tournament by beating the Nationals, 8-7.  It was a great, close game, and I was so proud of my boys for hanging in there and getting the win.  They played tough in the field in the top of the 6th inning, gave up one run, but managed to hold on for the win after Jaxyn made a couple of nice plays at pitcher.  Winn, Brennan and Cyrus hit well.  Cooper made a nice play at 3rd, after which he gunned the runner at 1st base.  J.P. made a great play at 2nd, when he went far to his right to field a ball, kept his glove down and threw a strike to Winn at 1st base.

Winning was fun, for sure, but what I pleased me the most was how well the boys got along with each other, how much fun they had, how much they improved over the course of the season and how much they learned.  It's such a great group of boys.  I love every one of them.  It's so rewarding to connect with each boy in a slightly different way.  What I'm hoping to do is keep the team together in baseball over the years, so they can grow together as players and boys.

The boys' parents are fantastic, as well.  Jude and I have made so many good friends through J.P.'s sports, especially baseball.  That's been a real treat.

What a great season!  Now, let's do it again this fall!

Hank, J.P. and Winn.

Randy and Jonathan.

Chris and Wes.

One more team photo.

Summer is Here!

J.P., on the front porch before the last day of kindergarten.

Stop Moving My Cheese

I don't handle change well.  Never have, probably never will.  And right now, there's a maelstrom of change in my life.

This morning at breakfast, J.P. reminded me it was his second to last full day of kindergarten.  His first year of school, gone in a flash.  Mind boggling.  Although he tells me the school year has gone by quickly for him, I guarantee it hasn't gone by as quickly for him as it has for me.  His first summer as a school aged child is upon us, which means it time for camps, camps and more camps.

Yesterday before I took Joe to play school at West End United Methodist Church, we watched an episode of "Super Why" on PBS.  He's moved on, almost completely, from "Sid the Science Kid" (my all time favorite) and seems to be losing a bit of interest in "Curious George," previously a morning television staple of his.  I had yet to watch "Super Why" with him, so when I did, it brought back vivid memories of watching "Super Why" with J.P.  As Yogi Berra once said, it was "deja vu all over again."  It makes me a little sad to see Joe moving on from "Sid the Science Kid" and "Curious George," only because it's a sign of how quickly he's changing and growing up.  Having been through this with J.P., I know how fast things change and how powerless I am to stop it.

Then, of course, there's the inexorable march toward May 30, when we leave our Elliott Avenue house forever.  We closed the sale of house on Friday, so technically we're not the owners anymore.  I'm ignoring that salient fact, however, and trying to enjoy the last, lingering days we'll spend there.  It's the end of an era, for sure, and the end of such an important and special time in my life.

As I walked up the street approaching the house last night, having just completed a 4 mile run, I was struck by how beautiful the tree - my favorite stately old maple tree - dominating the front yard - is this spring.  Thanks to all of the rain we've had this spring, the tree has exploded with large, green leaves.  The house is almost completely hidden from the street by the low hanging branches of the tree, which we always liked.  Strangely, it gives the house a secluded feel, especially at night.

It will be a banner fall for the Leaf Party - a party we're not going to be able to host at our Elliott Avenue house, after more than a decade of doing so.  And that makes me sad, too.

Freaky Friday

I just dropped J.P. off at school for his last Friday of the year.  As we drove to USN, he and I marveled at how quickly his kindergarten year had passed by.  I was glad to have a last chance to take him to school this morning, because Jude normally drops him off.  I feel more connected to USN when I take him to school every now and then.

He's a great first year at USN.  Great teacher, great friends and most importantly, great learning.  One day, early on, he came home and starting reading to Jude and me.  I realize he already was reading some, but it just sort of happened that all of a sudden, he was reading.  On of the true pleasures, for me, of his kindergarten year has been listening to him read a book to me each night, then signing the sheet in his book folder as the "lucky listener."  Lucky indeed.

This year marked the Centennial Celebration at USN, the school's 100th birthday.  There have a been a variety of events we have attended with J.P. and Joe.  Still, I haven't felt as connected as I am sure I will be in years to come.  I think it's because Jude normally takes him to school and picks him up, as well.  Also, I've been so busy with other volunteer activities and boards (Children's House and 21st Drug Court) that I haven't found the time to get involved at USN.  My style, though, is too ease into these types of things, so I suspect I'll get more involved next year and in the years to come.

When school ends next week, J.P will head off to a variety of camps throughout the summer.  Sports camps at USN and MBA, Zoo camp and Camp Whippoorwill.  It makes me a little sad, sometimes, to see him shuffled off to so many camps every summer, although it's unavoidable given Jude's and my work schedules.  I seem to remember my summers were lazier and longer lasting, made up of backyard playing, fort building in the woods, Monopoly marathons and trips to Opryland.  J.P. doesn't have that luxury, unfortunately.  

I could sit here at Bongo Java forever on such a beautiful spring morning, but I can't.  It's off to work (mediation) and then, hopefully, to the closing of the sale of our house on Elliott Avenue later this morning.  Big day.

J.P. and his kindergarten buddy, Cecil, at USN.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

And so, it seems, all good things must come to an end, including our time at 1906 Elliott Avenue, where I've laid my head almost every night for the past 12 1/2 years.

Tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, someone else will own my old, beloved Nashville house.  And it absolutely breaks my heart.

I'm working on a longer piece about our impending move, which isn't scheduled to happen for two more weeks.  I'd be remiss, though, if I didn't write something tonight as I sit on my front porch listening to My Morning Jacket (Tennessee Fire), sipping a beer after a 3-mile night run in the 'hood.  How many nights have I sat on this front porch and unwound after a busy day with work and kids, followed by a relaxing night run and a walk home from Bongo Java?  Too many to count.

I've deliberately shied away from writing about a possible move, for a couple of reasons.  First, it's been such an arduous process, looking at house after house, then trying to close the deal on the house we signed a contract to buy.  Second, I've been trying to work out in my head why I'm so sad to leave this house and what a move will mean to me and my family.

It helps that we're moving less than a mile away.  Still, it won't be the same.  It never is.  I'll miss this house and this neighborhood so much.  It's been such an important part of my identity for more than decade.  I'm grown to love living in the city - the diversity, the characters, the sirens, the police of Lifeflight helicopters, the sidewalks, the edginess - that and so much more.  I've become a city mouse, for sure.

And it all comes to and end tomorrow, at least in this house.  The distance between this house and our new house can't be measured in feet, yards or miles.  It's a whole different world there, I fear.  No diversity, bigger and more expensive houses and a neighborhood where everyone looks and acts alike.  I'll adapt and the move will be great for my family, but it won't be the same as what we have here on Elliott Avenue.  That's not necessarily a bad thing, I realize, but damn, it makes me sad to leave this house.

I've never been one to handle change well.  I'm often paralyzed by nostalgia, looking back instead of ahead.  So many memories in this house, especially of our boys, J.P. and Joe.

I'm fairly certain I'll never love a house as much as I love this one, for a variety of reasons.

Damn.

 

Tinkers to Evers to Chance

It doesn't get much better, as a father, than to coach your 7 year old son and watch him make a play at second base in the bottom of last inning to win the game.

Today, my boys, the Dodgers, played the Giants in our 7-8 year old WNSL machine pitch baseball league.  To say I love coaching baseball is an understatement.  What I love most of all, though, is coaching the boys on my team, most of whom have played together since they were 4  years old.  To watch J.P. interact with his teammates, especially after games, and to forge the kind of friendships born of competing together on the baseball field or basketball court is so rewarding.

Our game today was nip and tuck, close all of the way to the end.  We were visitors and took an 8-6 lead in to the bottom of the last inning.  I put our best defense in the infield, Jaxyn at 3rd base, Benton at shortstop, J.P. at second base, Winn at first base and Wes at pitcher.  The Giant has their 8, 9 and 10 batters coming up, so I thought we were in pretty good shape.

The #8 batter hit a high hopper to the right side of the infield, right at J.P.  It was a tough play, but J.P. timed it perfectly, fielded it cleanly and threw to Winn at first base for the first out of the inning.  "That's it, I thought.  The #9 and #10 hitters are going to strike out and we'll win by two runs."

The #9 hitter swung and missed at the first two pitches, then somehow managed to punch the third pitch slowly up the middle.  Wes stepped up to make the play and was getting in position to field the ball, when it hit the pitching machine.  By rule, that's a dead ball and the runner was awarded first base.  "Trouble," I thought.  "They're going to get back to the top of the lineup."

Sure enough, the #10 batter struck out, bringing to the plate the leadoff hitter.  He promptly singled, which put runner on first and second base, with the Giants' best hitter, a lefty named Maston, strode to the plate.

Maston is the Giants' best hitter by far and one of my all-time favorite kids.  I coached him in the fall and he blossomed into a first rate baseball player.  Anyway, he's a dead pull hitter and he already had two hits in our game.  I moved Winn close to the bag at first base to guard the line and shifted J.P way over toward first base.  Then, I shifted Benton to his left from shortstop, almost all the way to second base.  It was a modified version of the "David Ortiz shift," employed by most of the Red Sox opponents.

Sure enough, Maston hit a ball right at J.P.  It was hit hard, but J.P. missed it and it rolled into the outfield, between our right and right-center fielders.  One run scored, a runner advance from first to third base, and Maston ended up on second base.  That left us with two outs, runners on second and third base and a one run lead, with the #3 hitter coming up.  The last time up, he hit a ball to the fence in left field for a triple.  "It's over," I thought.

On the first or second pitch, the #3 hitter hit a hard ground ball right at J.P.  He fielded in cleanly, turned a fired the ball to Winn, who caught it for the third out.  Game over.

As our players ran in toward the dugout, cheering, I ran onto the field, picked J.P. up and lifted him over my head.  "You did it!" I shouted as he smiled and laughed.  His teammates were excited to have won such a close game.  We lined up behind Brennan, shook the hands of the Giants and ran to right filed for our post-game meeting.  I told the boys how proud I was of them as they sat looking up at me, grinning and talking.  We stacked it up, yelled "2-0!" (our record for the weekend) and left the field together.

I've coached a lot of J.P.'s games over the last 3-4 years.  Soccer games, basketball games and many, many baseball games.  Today's game, though, was my favorite.  To watch J.P. miss a ball he maybe should have caught, keep his chin up, then make a tough play at second base to win the game - well, it really doesn't get any better than that.